


roaring twenties, tossing pennies in the pool

by cloudteacup



Series: folklore series [1]
Category: W.E. (2011)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Some people just wanna believe in destiny, fateful meetings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:26:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26231896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudteacup/pseuds/cloudteacup
Summary: your new york fairytale is just one more wishful thinking away from becoming real— and you're it for him, too.
Relationships: Evgeni Kolpakov/Reader
Series: folklore series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1905250
Kudos: 2





	roaring twenties, tossing pennies in the pool

**Author's Note:**

> _but we were something, don't you think so?  
>  roaring twenties, tossing pennies in the pool  
> and if my wishes came true  
> it would've been you  
> in my defense, i have none  
> for never leaving well enough alone  
> but it would've been fun  
> if you would've been the one_   
> 

once upon an evening in new york, with its streets glowing bright with city lights and the atmosphere clouded with life radiating out of one too many people, you find yourself strolling down a street you’ve grown familiar with since a fateful and fleeting encounter with some man whose warmth still lingers on your skin like a ghost you can’t get rid of. you shove your hands in your coat’s pockets, feeling your heart sink a little at the thought that luck might be on your side this time. tonight might just be the night you’ll see him again after months of not knowing where else to find him, though you’re merely only holding onto hope instead of certainty. but you have nothing to lose, and if it won’t be tonight, you know full well you’ll come back tomorrow. and on the day after that. and on the days to come. just until you see him again.

you take your sweet time down the street and keep your eyes peeled in hopes of spotting a familiar face in the crowd. had you been less reticent, this wouldn’t be your situation, and if you were lucky, you would’ve had him coming home to you every night. sometimes you find yourself longing for him more than you should and you can only wonder why he ever had— no, still has that effect on you.

it all played out like a vivid reverie, and you remember the finite and exquisite bliss you felt all too well. you remember how his soft hands enveloped yours as you took in his pretty face under the dive bar’s neon sign, and how, within seconds, he managed to close the distance between you two and breathe in your scent like he needed you. you remember how he taught you how to properly flick open a zippo because _“there’s something about an attractive woman lighting my cigarettes”_ and you only knew how to flick open cricket lighters. apparently they’re two different kinds, and you swore it was far more interesting when it was him explaining the difference to you. the next day, you laugh at yourself. _you don’t even smoke._

your fingers fidget with the loose change and other small objects in your right pocket, searching for the zippo. you still don’t smoke, but you carry it around every single day for when you finally meet him and you’ll have something to show to him. it’s ridiculous, and you’ve imagined the many different ways this scenario could play out thousands of times you’re convinced you’re ready to look stupid in front of him, if that means finally getting to know the man who’s unaware of how much he holds your heart.

you bow your head as you feel a rush of blood to your cheeks. it sinks in, the realisation of how much this man got you wrapped around his finger when you have not even a clue about what his name is. every night before you sleep you’d whisper a prayer to god that he would give you a name to match the face with, but only then, you can only keep the flame burning by imagining his presence within your touch. you spend your late evenings performing a silent, personal ritual just to keep his face deeply etched into your memory and wishing you’d soon feel again the many ways he’s made you feel the night your paths crossed, albeit ephemeral. you miss him, and that’s why you’re here on the streets looking for him. and if you never see him again, you know you’ve set this curse upon yourself and live with this heartbreak for the rest of your—

_“oh, fuck!”_

you tilt your head up to meet the eyes of the stranger you accidentally bumped, only to be dumbfounded seconds later. your words are trapped in your mouth and white noise fills your ears. you know you’ve imagined this scenario playing out in thousands of different ways, except this wasn’t one of them. 

_“finally,”_ he mouths, his voice barely audible but his eyes spoke volumes. 

you’re looking at the man who’s been living in your mind for the longest time. he’s standing there, his blue dress shirt and his standard issue jacket and trousers hugging him in all the right places, his hair a more refreshing buzz cut, and his smile driving you back into that familiar feeling. you’re sure you’ve loved this man for the rest of your life even before you met him. looking at him feels like you’ve known him forever, and if you only knew how to open the different doors leading to different universes, you would’ve traveled through time and space just to seal your fate with him.

**_he is the one._ **

within seconds, new york is gone and time faded into nothingness. he is all there is and he’s everywhere, but you honestly don’t mind.

 _“i wish i knew your name before i could call you mine,”_ you quipped, quicker than your mind could process the words that slid through your teeth. he moves in closer, holding his hands out to cup your face and you look at him looking at you like he’s waited for you several lifetimes over. his touch is soft but reassuring, as if he’s scared you’ll dissolve if he doesn’t hold you with all the love he could give.

**_you are the one._ **

has it been three minutes or has it been a whole lifetime? you don’t know, and you don’t care.

tonight you’ve finally found your saving grace, and evgeni found his, too.

**Author's Note:**

> unbeta’ed. clearly someone did nothing except listen to folklore for 24 hours (and counting) the moment it came out. i intentionally wrote everything in lowercase because why not. this was written as a gift for my good friend. hope you enjoy!


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